


rendering of the seasons

by reminiscence



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Story (Video Games)
Genre: Freeverse, Gen, Poetry, ffn challenge: becoming the tamer king challenge, ffn challenge: diversity writing challenge, ffn challenge: the poetry collection challenge, poetry collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9098338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reminiscence/pseuds/reminiscence
Summary: Summer is the endless swirls of Loop Swamp. Autumn is the windy Login Mountain where the sun burns overhead but death waits below. Winter is the wasteland of Thriller Ruins rendered with time. Spring is the struggling Resistor Jungle that tries not to slip into the future flames.





	1. Loop Swamp/Summer

They were the long hours of wondering  
where every place looked the same,  
where there was no straight road leading out  
and no sun overhead, to pass them by…

It was always murky. Always dark. Always moist  
with the same sorts of flowers at every turn  
as though they sign-posted: they only spelt  
the spiral they continued  
up or down

And if they reached their destination  
or the start again, it was a fluke  
and nothing more, because they could  
have far too easily laid down  
to rest before.


	2. Login Mountain/Autumn

The wind could pitch them off  
and there was only black and white  
down there. They clung to the walls instead  
like flies, and they were flies  
in this world that didn’t care.

The sun was above them: roasting them  
until they fell too far below, and then the biting  
cold of the wind was unbidden, unwrought

And their numb fingers would lose their grip  
at some point, and then they’d fall.


	3. Thriller Ruins/Winter

It was the crumbled land they couldn’t rebuild  
and so it festered: snow piled up  
even if it never snowed.

The deeper they went, the longer the tale  
was told – and yet  
it was much the same: the dead, the sleepers  
who never woke.

If they went far enough, there’d be the graves  
and the bones long since picked clean  
and no always the same, no matter how many  
seasons or years passed them by

And if they were lost too long, they’d join  
the décor: the stale dark air where they’d missed  
the door to pass through once more.


	4. Resistor Jungle/Spring

The flowers call them close  
but the trees choke: they’re thick  
and the air is thick as well:  
the spring breeze cloaked with pollen  
as though they want to fill the place again  
before it crumbles.

It’s foolishness at its finest: there are too many  
flames, from the summer that approaches, from the  
fights on the horizon and the wild digimon now  
that attack everything that moves because they think  
they protect –

But that is how they all fight, and then the slumber  
where they lie amidst the ash and wonder  
which direction in the empty landscape  
they can turn to now.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the
> 
> Diversity Writing Challenge, a44 – poetry collection (total under 500 words)  
> Becoming the Tamer King Challenge, Data Forest task  
> The Poetry Collection Challenge, December 2014


End file.
